Chapter-5 Abigail

"You look fucking ridiculous teetering around like that." 

I gritted my teeth at Roy's remark as I carefully descended the staircase, each step sending a jolt of pain through my aching feet.  It wasn't a piece of cake in those damned heels – they weren't designed for someone like me who favored practical shoes over stylish torturing devices. But Alpha Roy had demanded that I wear them tonight, asserting they lent an additional dash of sophistication to my attire.

Despite hating to give in to his requests, particularly ones as minor but uncomfortable as shoe choices, I knew better than to butt heads with him. We were well aware of who wore the pants in our relationship. Thus, there I was, teetering on high stilts while keeping track of time, eagerly waiting to ditch them and exhale freely.

Finally reaching the bottom step, I smiled weakly at Alpha Roy, hoping to appease him despite knowing full well how futile such attempts usually were. At least now I could focus on enduring whatever else this evening might bring, rather than worrying about falling flat on my face due to impractical footwear. 

Ugh, why did men find high heels so attractive anyway? They certainly weren't worth the agony they caused.

Alpha Roy stepped forward, extending his hand toward me with an air of arrogant superiority.  "Take my hand."

I paused, holding back from pulling away from his touch. The thought of giving into his savior complex by accepting his help made me cringe. However, I also understood that declining would just lead to pointless confrontation.

With immense reluctance, I put my shaking hand into his chilly hold. He squeezed harder, drawing me nearer to him than needed, as he guided me toward the dining room. Every step seemed as if I were treading on sharp blades, stoking the resentment building up inside me.

"Thanks."

With a satisfied nod, Alpha Roy released my hand, allowing me to settle onto the plush dining chair. As he took his own seat across from me, his eyes roamed over my appearance once more, appraising my outfit and overall presentation. For tonight's occasion, I chose a satin green gown that hugged my feminine curves.

He reclined in his seat, propping his arms onto the plush armrests while scrutinizing me attentively. "Honestly, that dress suits you surprisingly well. You look good."

My heart skipped a beat, igniting a surge of optimism that maybe he had finally acknowledged the efforts I had made. Regrettably, his next remark swiftly shattered those hopes on the rocks.

"It's interesting, truly," he remarked. "Considering how uninspired your typical fashion choices tend to be, I didn't expect you to make such a nice pick."

That's exactly what I got—a backhanded compliment that left me wondering whether to interpret it as praise or critique. My initial excitement waned, replaced with disappointment.  Why did even the smallest gestures of appreciation come wrapped in barbs intended to cut me down?

I used to love this man at one point in time. 

So here I was, sitting slack-jawed across from the guy who used to claim dibs on my affection, bombarded by a barrage of flashbacks that almost knocked me flat. 

It feels like just yesterday I entertained daydreams of locking down lasting happiness alongside him. 

Sadly, though, those sweet reveries turned to dust by his first-ever infidelity. 

On the night before we were officially mated,  I stumbled upon something unthinkable; something that forever altered the course of our relationship. 

I walked in on one of his whores on her knees, giving him, my mate a blowjob. 

I recognized her as one of my closest friends, the one I used to share my problems with, the one I thought I could rely on.

Now she was happily mated to another wolf, living a life that I forever will envy. 

Back then, I naïvely believed that winning Roy's affection required sacrificing pieces of myself – starting with my self-worth. I swallowed my pride, ignoring the red flags that waved frantically whenever he dismissed my needs and concerns. 

Little by little, I transformed into someone I barely recognized.

I justified his behavior, attributing it to stress or fatigue – anything other than acknowledging the unsettling pattern forming before my eyes. I yearned for connection, craved stability, and hungered for adoration, settling for scraps thrown my way while watching him indulge in adultery.

Right now, all I wanted was to run away.

But Roy would rather kill me than let me out of his palm.

"Good evening, Abigail," Emma, Roy's mother greeted warmly, placing a reassuring hand on my knee. "You seem unusually quiet tonight. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes... everything is..." I glanced at Roy, who gave me a threatening scowl. "...Fine."

"Why, dear? You look pale," Emma asked, concerned for me.

It was downright ironic that a brute like Roy could have a mother as loving and caring as Emma. 

"Don't mind her, she's just on her period," Roy annoyedly announced, probably because he couldn't have his way with me this morning. 

Emma's eyebrows furrowed, casting a disapproving glance towards Roy. "Royald, that's no way to speak about your mate. There's no need for such insensitivity." She returned her attention to me, squeezing my hand gently. "Please forgive him, dear. Sometimes he doesn't understand the weight behind his words."

I nodded meekly.

Emma insisted, "Please know that you can always talk to me if something is bothering you."

Roy snorted derisively. "She doesn't need to talk. She just needs to learn her place."

"So, Abigail, any good news?" Alister, his father's voice swept across the table. 

Good news meant only one thing in our world: pregnancy. After three years of trying, I had yet to conceive an heir for the pack. Anxiety gnawed at my stomach lining as I prepared to respond.

"N-no, sir," I stammered, averting my gaze. "Not yet."

Disappointment washed over his features, replaced quickly with frustration. "Well, perhaps you should try harder, girl. Your duty extends beyond being eye candy for my son."

His words pierced straight through my heart, leaving me breathless. Tears threatened to spill over, but I blinked them back fiercely, unwilling to show weakness in front of these ruthless men.  

For now, all I could do was force a smile and reply politely, "Of course, I'll do my best."

Roy seemed satisfied with my response, judging by the smug smirk on his face. 

Alister leaned back in his chair, twirling his glass of wine before taking a sip. His sharp gaze stayed focused on me as he said. "Abigail, you understand the importance of producing an heir, don't you? Our pack needs strong leadership, and that starts with a healthy lineage."

With my tight-lipped smile, I said. "Yes... I understand it clearly."

Emma attempted to lighten the mood, changing the subject, "So, tell us, how has work been lately, dear?"

"Work has been manageable, considering the circumstances."

Alister raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Circumstances? Explain."

''Running a pack isn't easy - it needs lots of hard work and smart organizing. Still, some new challenges are popping up that require extra care and attention from me these days."

Roy shot me a questioning glance, likely surprised by my willingness to discuss matters outside his control. Ignoring his curiosity, I pressed onward. ''Our food supply's run out quicker than planned. Also, a few of our pack members fell sick, needing extra aid and resources during their healing process.''

Regardless of my loveless marriage with my mate, I was still Luna, the mother of the pack and I never hesitated to fulfill my role despite hating that position. 

Roy's interest soon perked up as he questioned, "How many times have you taken this trip, exactly?"

His sudden curiosity set off alarm bells in my head. Roy shouldn't know about my visits with Ethan. Sensing potential trouble, I answered vaguely, "Enough to ensure our pantry remains stocked sufficiently."

Unsatisfied by my evasiveness, Roy pushed further. "Be specific. How often are you going out? Are you handling everything alone or seeking assistance?"

With all the poise I could muster, I calmly responded, "Let me assure you, I'm doing everything I can to keep our pack running smoothly and efficiently with... help."

"Who is helping you? One of the beta females?"

"Does it matter? What's important is ensuring the welfare of our pack."

Roy sneered, his suspicion growing stronger. "You're avoiding answering me. Who is assisting you in these tasks?"

"What difference does it make who helps me? The outcome remains the same: a smoothly functioning pack."

Ignoring my protest, Roy pressed on. "Is it that low-born omega?"

I resisted the temptation to give him a dirty look. "He's our pack's doctor, and regardless of whether he's an alpha, beta, or omega, he deserves respect. Besides, even if he were tagging along with me, which he isn't, why do you care?"

Then, without warning, he drew back his free hand and struck me across the face. Pain exploded through my cheekbone, radiating throughout my skull. Emma's gasp echoed around the table as I cupped my stinging cheek.

In a low, trembling voice, I whispered, "You hit me."

"And I'll do it again if you talk back to me, " he spat venomously. He sat back in his chair as if nothing happened. "Dumb bitch." He muttered.

The room remained silent except for the distant sound of silverware clinking against plates. No one dared intervene or offer comfort. Not even Emma. 

Here I was, silently chewing the exquisite meal laid before me, each bite tasting like sawdust coated in guilt and shame. My cheek throbbed with every movement. And in the middle of it all, I remained voiceless, unable to cry out for help – after all, what kind of lady made a scene during dinner parties?